Monday, March 13, 2017

Musings when forced to take a rest

Within a heartbeat my bed, which should be filled with nights sleeping and lovers and joy, becomes a furrow.

A fetid hole with my books, screens, and 'home entertainment' scattered over my bed leaving only a line in which I exist: my body exists.

Sad porn for a pity wank abide to stem any sexual energy which invades this pitiful status quo.

Psychological solace is found in Facebook articles. Being angrier at the injustices of the world is easier than swallowing the pathos of my solitary dwelling.

Films, TV series, books are all skimmed through and rejected with a pathological ennui. There is the occasional passage or book that can hold my interest and my starving soul devours it, only to be hungry again in a few hours time.

The fusty aroma of this God forsaken room echos the internal blue funk that I feel.

Saturday, March 11, 2017


I am not sure what I noticed first if it was your smell or the warmth of your body as you lay next to me. It could be the rounded curves, exciting and comforting. Someone once said that no one ever had fun driving on a straight road, my preference has always been towards curvier women. Your curves are multi dimensional, the wonderful supine flow from your shoulders, dipping down to your waist, and then rising once more at those sexy hips. There was the other curve the started from the waist as you lay on your side, scooping over your rounded tummy, down into a drift of pleasure between your legs.

Mornings like this are what heaven is made of. The smell of your hair as I spoon you is comforting. I bury my nose in it and revel in your choice of leave in conditioner that smells of coconut and reminds me of pina coladas on the beach in the summer. I love the differences in colour of our skin, my midnight blackness and your cafe au lait hues. Not that I can see because my eyes are shut but I imagine. I take pride in us, two women in love; I have never loved anyone like I love you, it is deep seated and comes from a place within that I never knew existed. That old trope of unlocking something deep inside I always used to meet with a sarcastic eye roll and a sneer. Then I met you.

Snuggling closer I allow my hand to wander south. Lips parting as they would for a kiss, you like to be shaved but I can feel missed stubble that contrasts beautifully with that soft tender skin. Separating them allows your sexual scent to meander up and encapsulate my imagination. I want to explore further into your inner chamber, the silky slickness. I want your cum over my fingers, I want to dive between your legs and feast on your pleasure, your wetness smeared over my face echoing your body being smeared over the bed sheets. I want to go down and with my 'come hither' finger on your g-spot, stroking it into action and persuade your body that squirting all over my face is a thing that it wants to do. I love making your squirt, it isn't something you do regularly but the shame on your face is enchanting. That erotic shame where you are both proud of your body and appalled. Your toes curl and your feet intertwine, your chin goes down as do your eyes and your shoulders raise in an attempt to protect you from your embarrassment. Of course for me it is sexual heroin, it feeds my lust for you, makes me yearn for you even more like some crazed addict.

I breathe again, collecting my thoughts in this half sleep, half wake state of mine. Your smell and mine combine to make a unique, raw sexuality that clings to my hind brain causing me to moan involuntarily. I pull you closer.

Reality is an evil mistress. I pull the duvet around me realising that I have snared my legs in its softness. Caustic reactions run through my core, the acid erosion of reality that you are not here and never will be again. Wicked, treacherous tears prick my eyes. Emotions choking my throat, throttling my attempts to breathe which come in painful shards stabbing my heart causing it to bleed out killing me completely.

Seven years, seven whole fucking years since you left me, since you went off with someone else. I don't know, or really care, who she is/was but the act of violating our trust, our love has crushed me. I am merely a ghost of who I was. An echo. Unreal in my existence. I eat, sleep, go to work; I even occasionally fuck others but they are not you, they are not us. I had magic. I now have a dried out skeleton of who I was. The now familiar ennui flows over me as I try to find five things to be grateful for just as my therapist has advised before I get up on this ground hog day.

Who else is joining in the Wicked Wednesday writings? Click the link to find out

Thursday, December 22, 2016

E-lust #89

Photo courtesy of Sex is My New Hobby

Welcome to Elust 89-

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you're looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it'll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #90 Start with the rules, come back January 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!  

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

When the Tears Finally Came
  The pure and simple truth
  One Down  

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Disabilities & Submission, Part 2: I Say No UnRepentant Darkness  

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

Hoar Frost… *You really should consider adding your popular posts here too* All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

Hold me down
Keeping me chaste
Say My Name
The Little Things
Learning To Truss
A New Use My Mania is My Drug
Life as a Laissez-Faire Domme

Erotic Fiction

Candy, Caned
Jax and Rickie’s First Kiss
New Collar

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Why You Should Make a Sex Tape
And the winner is...doggy style!
Pleasantville: The Promise of Trump's America
Bdsm reasons for not hitting children
An Open Letter to

Erotic Non-Fiction

The Fun Of Being Stripped Of Wet Running Kit!
I want to lick your pussy some more
KIDNAP - a story of fear, pain and sex
Well, that's new...
Objectionable Hair - A Lady's Taboo

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

The Cub
I still have hope A Baker’s Dozen #fucketlist


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Saturday, November 12, 2016


Oh. She has posted something. She hasn't posted anything for ages and ages. I am not sure if she knows how talented she is, because she is one of the best writers I have ever come across.

Wow, her writing has improved. Perhaps all this time away has allowed it to mature and grow. I see that she is still writing dark twisted tales. Delicious darkness. She has so much shade inside her I love it, I always have. It is what drew me to her in the first place; the talent and the depth inside her. She never saw it, women like that never do, they see all their faults and have had people around them who drag them down.

I have seen it thousands of times. That's why women flock to me. I pay them attention, throw around a few compliments, show them that they are beautiful then they are eating out of the palm of my hands. Simple really. I love the envious looks I get from other men as these women fawn over me. These men see that I have a beautiful woman with eyes for no one else and I can see them puzzled as to why they are with me. This feeling feeds me, it makes me feel strong and powerful when really I am non descript looking: 5'6", slim build, bald, snaggled toothed, usually wearing a grey suit having come straight from the office and a fag in my hand. Average, that is how I have been described, I look average. With these women, with her I am not average, anything but.

I have always loved women, having my first sexual encounter at the tender age of 12, fingering a girl in her bedroom, smelling her scent on my digits. That is still something that I adore doing. I remember doing that to her, my writer, watching her writhe under me, seeing her so willingly submit to my dominant desires. She has soft flesh, smooth skin that reacts to well to my touch. The way she arches her back, yearning for me. A tight hold and tug on her hair and she is mine, utterly mine. Of course, I look after her, watching what she posts, looking out for scumbags that will hit on her. Special people like her need to be protected, she is such a free spirit and so trusting that people will take advantage of her.

Things got a bit weird between us towards the end of our relationship. She described me as toxic, a bit harsh as I was only looking out for her. I will admit that I am a jealous guy, despite my bravado I was worried that someone would steal her away from me. I kept testing her, seeing if she would be where she said she would, showing up unexpectedly, deliberately standing her up; all proof that she was still true to me. After a few months of this I found out that she had been on a dating website. I didn't have the app of course but I read the emails. Perhaps she should have put a stronger password on it. She went mental when she found out and threatened to never speak to me again but I have to look out for her and we had a tumultuous relationship where she we split up and got back together over and over again. She said that I drove her to do it and that I drove her away, I didn't mean to, I just wanted to know that she loved me. Except that time she meant it. That was three years ago, all history.

I was relegated to the benches, to use sporting parlance, all I could do was watch. I saw her date a few guys, all of course were completely inappropriate, watch her go quiet online as she does when her heart is hurting. Why do women like that go for weak men? How can they not see their value? I wanted to speak to her, occasionally I would drive past her house and see the light on in her living room. I even got as far as to get out of the car and go to her front door but something stopped me. I want her to choose me, I ache for her to choose me. I have spent three years watching out for her, guarding over her. I don't really mind if we can only be friends, at least then we can see each other again. I can touch her again. Smell her perfume again.

Now I see her back online writing again and my heart skips a beat. She truly is magnificent.

I know that she said for me never to contact her again but I am sure that one message won't hurt. One DM on twitter.

Me: You are writing again..hope it's ok to have read and grinned.
Her: You will have to remind me who you are. I have been away for so long.

Of course, I chuckle to myself, I changed my twitter handle. She doesn't recognise me.

Me: I know you's the one who promised never to contact you again but sod it cos you got deep dark writing going on again and that's brilliant.

My heart is racing. I hope she realises it's me. I hope she wants me. Just to be talking to her is thrilling and sexy.

Her: Tony?
Me: you.

Yes! She does recognise me.

She is keeping me waiting, perhaps me messaging has taken her by surprise. She always had the kindest of hearts, it was both her greatest asset and her greatest failing. Perhaps we can go for coffee and talk about old times. Perhaps I can hold her again. A kiss possibly; would that be too much to ask?

Her: Fuck off. Fuck right off. Never contact me again or I will call the police!

Jesus! Well that didn't go as expected. All I wanted to do was talk to her, tell her how fabulous she is and that she is writing again. Wow that hurt, that was like a punch in the chest. Now I feel angry, cross at her, all I ever did was look after her, look out for her. Is that the gratitude I get from her? Fucking bitch.

Friday, November 4, 2016

His and Hers

It's there, in front of my face. Dead birds don't fly. It's a grower not a shower. Cruel words and phrases emerge in my brain. I wait there hoping that the resentment subsides. Apparently feelings of resentment are the fastest and most absolute way to destroy a relationship. I hate him and I hate his flaccid, failing fucking cock. I loathe his cock. If I could bite it off I would, the rage in me is so strong at this moment.
He never used to be impotent. We used to have hours and hours of fun fucking, sucking, wanking his beautiful appendage. It never was the biggest but it, to my mind, was the best and most beautiful penis I have ever had the pleasure of. A wondrous staff and always an orgasmic ride.
There is always a but.
We wanted children. Cue LOTS of fucking, lots of giggling, a lot of grown up sexy time. We breathed each other, an inhalation of pheromones, lust, and love. Creating new life; a new connection between us.
I didn't get pregnant. Oh fuck, this is all my fault. That's all that went round and round in my head. Doubt at first, swiftly followed by self loathing; self hate. I was a useless woman, a shell, my shit body wouldn't do what it was meant to do. This useless fucking flesh sack. For the first time since I was a teen I wanted to cut my flesh off.
Then I found out it was you not me. Your sperm count was so low it would be a bloody miracle to conceive. That was the start of me hating you; thinking that you were the lowest of the low. That was when you started to have erectile problems. 'Your erection, our relationship' the self help pamphlet said. It was the worst, you were the worst. You went from being a useless fucking man to a pathetic, shrivelled wimp. Stupid, useless man.
Out of this hateful reverie I look up and see your sad eyes look down at me. My heart sinks. How can I even think such poisonous thoughts? You are kind and generous and the most beautiful soul that I have ever been touched by. I am filled instantly with regret, full of sorrow.
'I love you,' you whisper hoarsely. You are filled with emotions that make me love you more.
'I love you too.'
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- We agreed to the oral sex. I am so nervous because I am not sure if I can get it up. I used to love getting head, you are so good at it, you are amazing at it. Were amazing at it...before. Before this all happened. We were amazing together. I miss 'us' as we were, I mourn 'us'. My heart aches.
I recall how we were before we found out that I have no sperm. I am a useless man, a shell of a man. I try not to fall into self loathing but the cancer of it grows through my soul shredding my sense of self worth. I am in tattered rags, so fragile that even a look from you will make me crumble. Please don't look at me like that, please.
I try and hide my depression from you. I guess you suspect that I am not ok because you are a smart woman. I have always loved smart women, they are the best. I am not sure though because I know that you are in your own personal hell. I want to pull you out of it but I can't and that makes me feel like I am a useless bastard of a husband.
Emotions jumble within me as I try and push the suicidal thoughts away, banishing them, but they have become my near constant companion these last few months. I don't know when they started, as they insidiously crept into my mind. I know how I would like to do it, to end it all. I am no longer afraid of death, some days I long for it but I am not yet at that point. I hope never to reach it. I still have some hope no matter how faded. You are my life, you are my light and I have let you down. I love you, with my whole heart, with everything I have in me. I just hope that you still love me back.
Choking back the tears I open my mouth to say something but nothing comes out. Just like my cock. I roll my eyes at my own self disgust.
'I love you,' creeps out of my mouth.
You look up with your beautiful amber eyes and tell me you love me too.
Let the blow job begin.

See who else is participating in Wicked Wednesday

Saturday, October 29, 2016


I am here licking her with my whole heart. I have already come. That is the way that we are, I come and then she does, or she does and that I do. It was my turn to come first if you like, not that we take turns it just happens organically. She tells me that she has not come this way since her husband died in the war, the second world war. She hasn't been with any other men since then. Hers is a heartbreaking story. She married young, as they all did then, had a couple of children in quick succession; they were happy. He was called back to war as he had been for throughout all of  their courtship but this time he never came back. She, Edith, never met anyone else she liked, she was heartbroken. Stoically, she carried on raising her children and in turn her grand children on her own. She is a beautiful woman whom I am attracted to very much. I want to give her pleasure because she pleasures me greatly.

Today has been a relaxed session. Laying her back on her bed, easing her arthritic joints, relaxing her hips so she can open her legs. Some people would be turned off by this; this old woman in front of me with her old woman smell: a combination of rose water, strip washes, and incontinence pads. What they don't realise is that after a bit of time and attention to her vagina her natural sexual aroma comes through. Untangling her pubic hair I press my tongue down and lick and lap whilst she starts her mewling. Her breathing speeds up and comes in rough instamatic rasps. Slowly I place my fingers inside her, feeling her velvet cunt warmly welcome this intrusion. Moving them back and forwards as I feast on her is an absolute pleasure and brings out the beast in me. The beast makes me want to do it faster. Harder. More vigorously. Needier. Full of lust. With a frenetic dominance I eat her and watch as she climaxes, her orgasm spilling over the age divide of us, moving electrically through her body razing the arthritis and brittle bones away from her momentarily. With an abandon which she has not seen in years she comes at the end of my lesbian fingers and it strips back her age making her young and beautiful once more.

I can't hold her after the act. I need to get on, so I dress into my uniform, licking my fingers and inhaling her citrus scent from them. I can only do this on the weekends I am working. I work 12 days on and 2 days off. I make her the last call of my lunchtime run so that we can have this time together. My husband thinks that they just work me hard on my weekends on, he doesn't know about Edith, no one does. I suppose as a home carer there is some form of code of conduct: we aren't allowed to take money or gifts from our clients. I suspect that having sex with them would not be allowed but I shake this thought out of my head.

I make sure that she is well and comfortable after our love making, she is asleep as she usually is. She sleeps well afterwards and wakes up refreshed. I will come back and see her as part of my evening rounds.

As I drive off an uncomfortable thought comes into my head. It is possible that her family might perceive this as abuse, after all she is in my care. I shake my head and dispel this alien concept, she loves me and I love her. She is consenting, she is an adult, occasionally confused but not dementing yet. It is love....I am sure of it. With my own internal world back in balance I move onto the next old person.

As always this is part of Wicked Wednesday click the link to find out who else has joined in.

Wednesday, June 15, 2016

e[lust] #83

Okkaaaaayyyy so I started writing after nearly a 3 year hiatus and my filthy little story was picked by the wonderful people at e[lust]. Who knew?!?!?! I feel very flattered and honoured. Please do me the credit of checking out the other stories and adding comments as we all like feedback. Thank you.
Rachel xx

Photo courtesy of Holden and Camille

Welcome to Elust #83 -

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you're looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it'll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #84 Start with the rules, come back July 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!  

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

London Crows and London Kisses I am Her. She is Me. You Say You Want to Cook for Me  

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Unusual Liaison Community. Respect. Friendship. Fucking.

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

Dirty Little Secrets *You really should consider adding your popular posts here too* All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!  


You Know O

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

My Bed Secular Submission My therapy from “hard limit” to “want” We Measure the Nostalgia The Cure and The Cause


Smut in the 6ix - Porn Conference & Gala

Erotic Fiction

Typing Errors La Belle Dame Sex and chocolate The Imprisoned of HIM-HER-THEM The Gift audience Becca’s Story Rope and Fixtures As salty as his cum... Dominating the Doctor

Erotic Non-Fiction

Teen Sex in Woolly Tights with 60s Beat Music Dear Sadist: Your Cruelty Is Your Love A male dom, the straight girl and the bi girl Owned, Leashed, & Beaten Jan 2015 Owned & Collared by Mistress Claire Rinse The Days Filth Away Power On Keeping tally

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Formative Kink Epic Fail: "Buck Rogers"

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

If it was easy anyone could do it What's a service submissive? Prescient Words

Writing About Writing

What if aspirational meant something else?